


altus, alti

by Pokegeek151



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: 4+1, Artemis has chronic fatigue because of the events of book 8, Artemis has synesthesia, Awkward Dates, Book 8 spoilers, Chronic Illness, Clone Angst, First Dates, Fluff, Give 👏 Minerva 👏 a 👏 buff 👏 girlfriend 👏, Greek Love Types, Hospitals, It's both of them, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Memory Loss, Minerva deserves better, Mobility Aids, OFC is only in one chapter, Other, Other characters make minor appearances - Freeform, Platonic Pining, Queer Character, Queer Platonic Partners, Queer Themes, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Skiing, Stargazing, Synesthesia, The Last Guardian Spoilers, Walks In The Park, Whoops guess who can't write pure fluff apparently, and the relationship was in the past, awkward first date, both of them are queer, but not really any actual Medical stuff, qpp, qpr, queer platonic relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:35:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24984685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokegeek151/pseuds/Pokegeek151
Summary: altus, alti. Latin, adj. 1. tall, lofty. 2. deep, low.Or4 Times Artemis And Minerva Were "Just Friends" And 1 Time They Were Something Else
Relationships: Artemis Fowl II & Minerva Paradizo, Minerva Paradizo/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 115
Kudos: 86





	1. 0. ignorar, ignorando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ignorar, ignorando. Spanish, verb. 1. to not have information about; to be ignorant. 2. to have information but ignore it; to disregard
> 
> Or
> 
> Artemis makes an important phone call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by Asiatiques

Artemis Fowl II was not taking visitors. His memory was still in slowly-recovering pieces, and his parents did not want to overstimulate him. Angeline and Artemis Sr. were of course allowed to see him, as well as his little brothers. Butler hardly left the boy’s side, and Holly was a regular visitor. Foaly was also allowed to see him, given his pivotal role in Artemis’ resurrection and recovery, and, with the boy’s permission, he occasionally brought No.1 for help with potential magical healing. Beyond this small group of people, though, Artemis was kept away from the outside world like a princess locked in a tower while his mind stitched itself back together.

Artemis hated it.

He knew that his memory was still patchy, but his body had gained enough strength that he could usually walk around the manor unassisted. Certainly, he had bad days where he needed to use his crutches, but they were growing less and less frequent. And it was only rarely that he would be so weak that he’d be forced to use his wheelchair. Those days, he preferred to lock himself in his study and claim to be working on a project rather than subject himself to his family’s pitying stares.

For the most part, he could get around on his own, and he was well past the point of the confusion-based panic attacks he had during the first few weeks. After only a couple of weeks, his mind had settled into his new body, and into life at the manor. He had memorized Holly’s stories about their adventures with the People, and frankly, he was ready to get out of the house and explore. He had long since determined that exposure was the most effective way of restoring his memories, but Angeline particularly was firm in her belief that his mind was still delicate and all contact must be very carefully monitored in case he got overwhelmed. When Artemis had countered by saying he could lose progress if he doesn’t form new memories, she had given him a look that said they would discuss the issue later and left to get his lunch, ignoring his protests that he could make it to the dining room easily. 

On this particular day, Artemis could practically feel his head buzzing with the need for fresh stimuli. It was as if he could almost hear a symphony, but no matter how much he focused, he could not properly make out the music. Five months, now, almost six, without interacting with a single person outside of his tiny circle. He wracked his brain for a face, a name, anything that might lead him to someone else important that he could reach out to, his family’s hesitance be dashed. He was forced to sift primarily though the details of Holly’s stories, and by habit, he went chronologically, digging and recalling every casually dropped name and off-handed mention of a past colleague. 

In hindsight, it seemed obvious that Minerva Paradizo was the simple answer to his predicament. A fellow genius his own age, aware of magic but not embroiled in the process of his restoration. Even thinking about her caused his heart rate to tick up a bit, a phenomenon that he mentally noted to look into later in case it was more serious than a bit of excitement at the prospect of socializing with literally anyone.

His phone was on top of the wireless charging dock he’d constructed as a mental exercise shortly after his return. Even with only a fraction of his usual processing power, the task had taken only a couple hours, the majority of the time being devoted to keeping his feeble hands steady.

He selected her number from his contact list full of old business partners and colleagues he could not remember and waited with bated breath for her to pick up. The quiet stretched on to the point where Artemis thought she wouldn’t pick up at all, until finally, just before the end of the sixth ring, she answered.

“I don’t know how you got that phone, but if you do not return it, I will—“

“Minerva?” he breathed, loathing the questioning tilt of his words. Of course it was Minerva. Who else could it possibly be? Her voice brought memories of the scent of coffee, and he was struck with the fleeting image of bouncing, golden curls and the lingering taste of peaches on his tongue. 

There was silence for a moment before she spoke again. “Artemis?” Hope and hesitation were thick in the single word.

“Yes,” he told her softly. She did not respond, and after a few seconds, he heard a click and the line went dead. 

He immediately dialed the number again, and she picked up before the first ring finished. “What was the first play we saw together?” she demanded.

Artemis felt the guilt that he could not pass her test crawl up his throat. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly, and she hung up again.

Yet again, he called, silently wishing she would answer and not immediately block his number. She certainly took her time deciding if she would pick up, the ringing echoing more and more loudly in his ear as he waited. The moment she picked up, he spoke with more firmness than he felt. “I lost my memories.” Minerva didn’t say anything, but she didn’t hang up, so he chose to interpret that as a good sign. “Holly told me about you, a bit. Just the parts involving the Hybras incident. Your tone indicates that you cared deeply about me, more than one would expect if our only contact had been during those few weeks. Possibly a romantic relationship, but Holly didn’t say anything about me dating anyone, and she doesn’t appear to be hiding anything from me. I can only conclude that we were close friends. And I…I could use that right now. Someone to just talk to.” He hadn’t intended to go that far, but it was true. He loved his family dearly, Holly and Butler included, but he needed to connect with someone, anyone else. “Your voice smells like lavender shampoo,” he added without really thinking about it. That sort of thing had been happening a lot since he woke up, saying things he didn’t mean to say.

Minerva was quiet, and Artemis briefly pulled the phone away from his face to check that the call was still going. Eventually, an airy laugh filtered over the line. “Artemis Fowl, you _bête_. Leave it to you to pull a stunt like this.”

Despite the insult, Artemis felt himself grinning. “If you come to the manor, I can tell you all about it. Did you know that I died?”

“Yes, _sot_. I know.” There was an ache in her voice, and it only occurred to him then just how much she might have mourned for him. “How long have you been…you know...”

“A few months, now.”

“A few _months_?” she repeated incredulously. “And you only thought to call me _now_?”

“My mother has been very restrictive in terms of whom I can contact. She thinks I will get overwhelmed.”

“You, overwhelmed?" She chuckled brightly at the notion. "One would think that meeting with people you knew would help stimulate the return of your memories, _non_?”

“That’s what I told her! Yet she insists. She doesn't even know I'm on the phone with you now.” He let his body fall back on the bed. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed talking to Minerva. He sat up again as an idea came to him. "Take a picture of yourself," he told her. "Seeing your face will be better for my memory than just the sound of your voice."

"I'll do you one better," she said, then hung up. He could already guess her plan, and the text he received a few moments later confirmed it. 

>See you soon!

Attached was a picture of a young woman with long blonde hair, thick curls loosened by their own weight being pulled by gravity. Her green eyes were framed with thick reading glasses, and though the lighting in the picture made them seem black, Artemis knew instinctively that they were actually deep purple. A memory came to him of the two of them perusing a store, studying set after set of frames until they had found a pair that he could stand the taste of. _"I'm going to be the one looking at them all the time,"_ he'd argued, and Minerva's laugh had come to him smelling like sandalwood. A small moment in time, but so fresh and new that it sent his heart racing. The longer he studied Minerva's picture, the more of these snapshots filtered through from the depths of his memory. He had no context for any of them, but he still felt lighter than he had in weeks. 

A quick estimate of distance and average jet speeds told him she would arrive in about two hours, and he immediately set to work making himself presentable. It was a bad day in terms of his mobility, and because he hadn't intended to leave his room today, he was still in the clothes he had slept in. He ran a hand through his messy hair, briefly considering taking a shower, but he was forced to immediately dismiss the notion. Getting dressed was already a daunting task, and he simply didn't have the time. 

By the time he'd changed into a pale blue polo shirt and simple black trousers over an hour later, his muscles ached and he was considering calling Minerva and asking her to come back tomorrow. But she was already on her way, and he was desperate for new interactions and memories, craving them like a drug. He clung to the thought of that relief, the sweet smell of lavender, and the buzz of returned memories, and forced himself into a standing position. For a few moments, he stood there, swaying and gripping the edge of his desk in a vice, before staggering the two steps to his wheelchair and collapsing into it. 

He stayed there for a few minutes, catching his breath and waiting for his heart rate to settle. Anyone else would do their best to not think about the herculean effort it would take to get to the parlor from here, but Artemis was not the sort to not think about something. Instead, he calculated. He calculated the distance to each of the entrances to the manor, which one was closest, where his prison wardens were. He had no wish to deal with Butler or his parents. They would be concerned and overprotective, and he did not need a chaperone while spending time with Minerva for the first time in his current memory.

Angeline and Artemis Sr. were on a day trip with the twins and would not be back until evening, a fact for which Artemis was immensely grateful. One fewer variable to account for. Butler had quietly knocked on his door a few hours ago to let him know he would be at the practice range, though he was also quick to assure that he would have his phone on him and would come immediately if Artemis needed him. 

Artemis considered asking Butler if he was still at the range, but that would just make the man suspicious and more likely to come back. As much as he hated the uncertainty, Artemis would just have to hope that Butler was out of the way.

Nearly all of the doors in the manor had been replaced with automated ones, and the remaining ones were already scheduled for installation. The door to Artemis’ bedroom had been the first, of course, and he was pleased with all of the renovations now as he began his journey to the parlor. In straight distance, there was a service entrance closer, but it was near a staircase and would require going to the recently installed elevator and then back in the correct direction, nearly doubling the actual distance he would have to travel. He also was not interested in directing Minerva to the service entrance via text, and getting anywhere would leave him too short of breath to manage a phone call. Settling for good enough seemed to be the order of the day, he decided as he rolled out of his room. 

Once he was in the elevator, Artemis pulled out his phone and studied Minerva’s picture. He committed to memory the shape of her eyes and the way her nose curved away from her face and the light, uneven spattering of freckles over her cheeks. He tasted the gold in her hair as peaches melting on his tongue, undercut by the sharp bite of a spice he could almost name. The longer he savored the familiarity of the image, the more the snapshot slowly expanded.

_“Peaches and cloves? An unusual combination, Master Fowl.”_

_“You are far from usual, Mademoiselle Paradizo. It suits you.”_

He placed the phone in his lap, still open to Minerva’s picture, as he rolled out of the elevator. He considered stifling his grin, but it wasn’t worth the effort. Everyone insisted that he didn’t have to act exactly like the old Artemis, the one who was more guarded and reserved, and though he quietly suspected they hoped he would return to “normal,” Artemis decided to try following their advice. Besides, after all the grief she’d been put through because of him, Minerva deserved to know that her presence made him happy.

The parlor was most well known for its extravagant carved doors decorated with abstract images representing key moments in the family history, but there was a smaller, less conspicuous door that allowed the master of the house to enter without having to fuss with the heavy, decorative doors or worry about accidentally scuffing the hardwood floor of the main entrance hall. 

Artemis used this door to get into the parlor. It was closer to the elevator, and it was automated because Angeline was concerned about damaging the historic doors while the mechanism was installed. Sneaking in the side entrance ultimately resulted in Artemis getting a first look at Minerva Paradizo, who had evidently let herself in, in person without her realizing immediately.

She was standing in the center of the room facing the open parlor doors, rapidly typing something into her phone. The way her head tilted forward caused her thick curls to partly curtain her face from his view. Memories didn’t come rushing into him, but he hadn’t expected them too. She slotted so neatly into his mind that it took him a second to remember that this was his first time seeing her in this life beyond a single photograph.

She stopped typing and a moment later, his phone buzzed with a new text message. Minerva turned at the sound, startled, and she finally saw him. Time, for just a moment, was frozen. Artemis took in her features, feeling the peaches and cloves explode on his tongue. Minerva was _real_ , a physical presence in the room with him. After half a year kept apart from the rest of the world, Minerva felt like a gust of wind stoking the light of the fire.

Minerva, for her part, felt an empty part of her fill at the sight of her best friend alive. The same part of her that had ached for two years while Artemis was missing in time had hollowed upon his death. She existed beyond him, of course, but colors were dimmer. The rich upholstery seemed oversaturated in this moment, a result of life flooding back into where she had closed part of herself off.

For an indefinable moment, there was no sound, no movement in the universe, until Artemis spoke.

“Minerva,” he said, shattering the tension like a wine glass beneath a shoe.

Minerva surged forward and dropped to her knees beside his wheelchair. Her arms twitched at her sides, and for a moment, she hesitated. Careful.

He nodded, and she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. Artemis, especially recently, was somewhat touch averse, but he found himself at ease, practically melting into the hug. It felt _different_ , in an intangible way, from hugging his mother, or Holly, or his brothers. The connection was _different_. Not more, not better, but something he couldn’t remember the word for yet, if there even was one.

“ _Que tu sois vivant,_ ” she whispered into his ear. _I am grateful you are alive._

“ _Je suis joyeux que je sois vivant,_ ” he replied. _I am grateful to be alive._ It was true; recently, he had been unsure. A lack of stimuli, a lack of novelty, a lack of dignity and respect. A great deal of lack had made him abstractly question if all the turmoil was worthwhile. But Minerva, a reminder of positivity, of the potential to return to a better baseline level, of the existence of memories within himself not yet explored, made him truthfully grateful to be here.

Idly, he realized that his memories of French had resurfaced without him realizing they had been missing.

“At some point, you _will_ tell me all of the details, but for now, I will assume the short version is magic,” Minerva said eventually, still hugging him.

Even though Artemis’ usual discomfort had been held back by nature of Minerva being the one making contact, he was starting to feel the familiar over-awareness of his skin. He shifted a bit, and Minerva immediately released him without another word.

“The short answer is indeed magic,” Artemis said. He grabbed his wheels and moved closer to one of the many comfortable seats in the parlor.

Minerva took the cue and followed, sitting in one of the plush single chairs as Artemis took a few moments to transfer himself onto the end of the love seat across from it.

Minerva looked as if she had a thousand and one questions to ask, but for the time being, she reigned in her curiosity. There would be plenty of time for research and data collection later.

Once he was settled, Artemis let out a long breath. “I don’t know how to begin,” he admitted. “It’s been so long since I’ve spoken to anyone, really. And even before, I don’t think I was the best conversationalist.”

  
Minerva chuckled. “I recall you once mentioning studying conversational theory, but it didn’t pan out. But I also recall our conversations never really being what might be considered ‘standard,’ anyway.” She adjusted her glasses before continuing. “You’ll find your rhythm, _maestro_. I will be patient.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the Minerva content only I asked for. Our girl deserves better, like actual closure. I am not used to writing fluff, so we'll see how this goes.
> 
> Meet me on [Tumblr](pokegeek151.tumblr.com) if you care about that sort of thing


	2. 1. ضِدّ [ḍidd]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ضِدّ [ḍidd]. Arabic, noun. 1. opposite, contrast. 2. alike, match.
> 
> Or
> 
> Artemis goes for a walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by [Emma](https://emmas-cozy-nook.tumblr.com/) [(tinytreehouse)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinytreehouse)

It was a good day in more ways than one. The weather report had said to expect clear skies and warm temperatures. It was a mathematically perfect summer day, but a strictly data-driven report could not hope to reflect the vibrant blue that left the crisp taste of macoun on Artemis’ tongue. Neither he nor Minerva had plans that day, a rare aligned gap in their busy schedules, and Minerva had invited him to the Chateau for a few hours. His unassisted walk through the manor grounds and onto the tarmac left him energized rather than drained, and though he brought his crutches with him, he did not expect he’d need them. It was a good day, indeed.

As soon as he sat down on the plane, Artemis pulled out his phone and started typing rapidly. After a few moments, a small grin crept across his features. 

He was, of course, texting Minerva, giving her updates about their progress throughout their discussion on the recent paper they had both read about a new experimental plan for coral reef preservation. She made a joke about how the author really ought to stick to his research on bacteria and agrochemicals if this was his theory about multicellular organisms (>He apparently only knows how to study one cell at a time), and Artemis actually laughed aloud. 

Butler, who had gone to help the pilot through her preflight checklist, returned then. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of his normally closed-off charge genuinely and openly enjoying himself before he spoke. 

"Tell your girlfriend that we are clear for takeoff and should arrive in just over two hours."

"She's not my girlfriend, Butler," he said without looking up. "We've been over this."

“Of course,” the man replied easily. “You should also tell her you need to turn your phone off for a few minutes.”

Artemis continued to type. “The need to turn off wireless devices for takeoff is actually a myth, particularly when the plane’s computers are top of the line, as they of course are on a Fowl jet.”

“That’s not a myth I care to test today,” Butler replied, though there wasn’t much force in his tone.

Despite his mild protests, Artemis finished his text and shut off his phone, dropping his head back against the headrest and smiling faintly at the ceiling. The expression felt strange on his face. He had been told time and time again that before his temporary death, he had a tendency to hide his emotions. Even after waking, he could feel the urge to dampen his joy, to temper his frustration. But he didn’t want to be that person again. 

To someone like Artemis, whose mind never stops working, a few minutes can feel like a lifetime. During takeoff, he played through his most recent composition in his head. He had started this piece before everything, and though his past self had left notes and ideas, it was largely unfinished. A wisp of melody here, a developing ostinato there. The pieces blended at the edges, but he had not gotten the chance to properly build the texture and aroma of the full composition.

It was nearly finished now, at least on paper. A proper connection to his past. Something more tangible than memories. There were programs on his computer to synthesize instruments, but they felt too lifeless for the emotional weight of it. It created hollow sounds and an almost chemical aftertaste. He was eager to find a proper orchestra.

His thoughts were interrupted by a faint ding above his head signaling they were in the air, and Artemis immediately switched his phone back on. His music could wait; he had several new texts from Minerva to check.

About halfway through the short flight, Artemis had to plug in his phone, but he pulled the short cord as far as it would go so that he could continue messaging her. He begrudgingly shut the device off once again for landing. 

Like Fowl Manor, Chateau Paradizo had its own small runway and landing area for occasions like this, and Minerva was waiting for them when they landed. “Master Fowl,” she greeted as Artemis carefully descended the small, temporary stairs.

“Mademoiselle Paradizo,” he replied. He allowed her a brief embrace as Butler stepped down behind, carrying Artemis’ crutches. “Just in case,” he clarified, noticing Minerva’s quick glance at the mobility aids.

She nodded in understanding. “If you are feeling up to it, I thought we could go out for the afternoon. The weather is absolutely perfect, after all.”

“That sounds lovely,” Artemis said, smiling. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Butler’s look of...not quite confusion, but the face one inadvertently makes when they see something incongruous with their perceived reality. Artemis’ own smile fell a bit. Though Butler was one of the people encouraging him to be freer with expressions, it would appear that even he still felt a disconnect between the old Artemis and the new.

Minerva must have noticed Artemis’ smile falter because she took his hand and pulled him away from his slowly clouding thoughts.

“Come.  _ Bois de Boulogne _ will be marvelous today. Let’s not waste the sunlight.”

  
  
  


As Minerva had predicted, the park was indeed marvelous. The air was filled with the overwhelming smell of chlorophyll and freshly cut grass, and it washed over them in waves with each puff of warm summer breeze. From somewhere amid the trees, the light music of an outdoor concert drifted towards them. After a few minutes of keen listening, Artemis was able to make out the familiar melodies of Chopin. Above them, the sky continued to stretch blue and clear, almost blinding in its saturation.

Artemis and Minerva were content to spend the first half hour merely wandering among the carefully maintained greenery, with Butler following at a discrete distance to allow them privacy, before Artemis’ legs started to ache and they found a wrought iron bench placed conveniently in the shade to rest on. The metal was cool to the touch, and he noticed, then, how warm the sun had made him in comparison.

Artemis sighed contentedly and let his head fall back. The sunlight filtering through the leaves was mesmerizing to look at, a honey-sweet gold pouring through backlit green, but he allowed his eyes to slip closed, content to simply feel the warmth on his face.

For a few minutes, there was quiet. Eventually, he felt Minerva shift beside him. 

“Tell me what you are thinking of,” she said softly. There was no expectation in her voice, and without thinking, Artemis answered honestly.

“The taste of sunlight is different from the taste of your hair despite both being a similar color,” he said. He noted distantly to himself that that was an objectively odd sentence, but Minerva made no indication that she was put off. “Sunlight is an almost honey-like flavor, but the color of your hair is peaches.”

“Curious,” Minerva said. “I wonder if that’s because of the undertones of the colors. My hair is more of a cool yellow, and the sun is a warmer tone. You would know more about that than I would, though.”

“Perhaps so. I would have to test it. I haven’t yet found the data about my senses, if I had collected any before. Perhaps we could design some experiments together.” He opened his eyes and looked over at her, and he was rewarded with her amused smirk.

“Artemis Fowl, are you flirting?” she asked.

Artemis smirked in return. “Not remotely. Though if I were to flirt, it would be with someone who thought designing scientific experiments would make a romantic evening.”

Minerva laughed, and it came to him smelling of fresh sandalwood. The familiar sound helped to unlock some memories that overlapped neatly with the present. Views of the park’s lake, laughter mixed with Chopin, chlorophyll and lavender shampoo.

“We came here a lot,” he said, almost a question, though he knew the answer.

“Yes,” she answered. “You liked the music. There is a series of outdoor concerts every summer, and you said the aroma of classical music is best appreciated with a view.”

Artemis was quiet for a moment. “Is that why you wanted to come here today? To make me remember?”

“I am not trying to make you do anything,” she said. “I also like this park.” She was quiet for a moment before continuing. “Not remembering it does not mean you cannot learn to like it again. It’s a beautiful place, whatever memories you have.”

“I think I like it better in context.” He has memories of this. Of softness. Butler and Holly and even his parents were always thrown by his bouts of tenderness, but when one lacks memories, the present becomes much sharper. Artemis failed to see the purpose of hiding what he was experiencing, so even though he could feel the stretch of his cheeks, he allowed himself to smile genuinely more often. The odd looks and quickly hidden disappointment of the people around him got to him sometimes, though. Reinventing himself meant that the people who knew him before were forced to reconcile the past with the present. 

Minerva was the exception. Whether she was better at hiding it or she genuinely did not mind, Artemis--the new Artemis--did not feel judged around her. It was a welcome reprieve from the delicate way he was treated at home, where he was spoken to as if he might shatter if it was acknowledged that dying changed him.

The key, Artemis realized, was that she had found the balance between knowing who he was now and who he had been. She had learned to reconcile the fact that though he was still Artemis Fowl, he was not exactly the same person everyone remembered.

Before he could say anything else, he heard footsteps on the gravel pathway. A young man with a polaroid camera approached them, all easy charm and smooth motions. He was smiling broadly as he veered directly towards them.

“Would you two like a photo?” he asked in crisp French. “A lovely photo as a souvenir of a lovely date?”

Artemis, for once, did not know how to respond. Minerva managed to pick up the slack for him, though.

“We’re just friends,” she replied smoothly. “Thank you for the offer, but--”

“Friends can still appreciate a photo of a fond memory,” the man interrupted. He waved his camera about as he spoke. “It’s only a few Euros for a memory.”

“No thank you,” Artemis said. “I don’t need to pay for my memories.”

Before the man could push again, Butler walked over. The massive bodyguard’s presence was enough to send the poor photographer scampering away.

“Thank you, Butler,” Minerva said in English. All three of them spoke fluent French, but it felt like returning to a more intimate conversation to switch back. “I detest those photographers. Always ruining the mood.”

“I completely understand,” Butler said. Though he knew that the photographer had merely been an eager, enterprising young man who posed no real threat to his charge, he still was not keen on strangers pestering Artemis.

Artemis braced himself against the bench as he stood. “If they’ve found their way here, let’s move to a different spot.” He offered Minerva a hand, which she took readily.

“I believe there’s a free performance at the south end of the park today. Perhaps we haven’t missed it.” She started walking down the path, still holding Artemis’ hand. “Mozart, if I remember correctly. Your favorite.”

Artemis allowed his hand to be held as he fell in step with Minerva. “I prefer Chopin, actually.” Minerva raised a curious eyebrow, and he continued. “Mozart’s compositions are musical masterpieces, of course, but I have fond memories of listening to Chopin in  _ Bois de Boulogne _ park with a dear friend.”

Minerva smiled broadly and gave his hand a light squeeze. “Then I guess we can take our time getting there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One down, three to go. Plus the +1. The next chapter already has a decent chunk written, so that's exciting! 
> 
> As always, I cannot sustain my mortal form without comments, so interact to prevent me from returning to the Beyond before I finish writing
> 
> Meet me on [Tumblr](https://pokegeek151.tumblr.com/) if you care about that sort of thing


	3. 2. stellen, stellte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stellen, stellte. German, verb. 1. to expose oneself. 2. to feign, to pretend.
> 
> Or
> 
> Minerva visits the hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by Asiatiques

In Minerva’s expert opinion, Artemis was incredibly lucky that she not only had access to a private plane but also had two full hours to vent her seething frustration to an innocent wall about being informed via a text message from Butler, not Artemis, that Artemis was in the hospital, about to undergo surgery on his leg before her arrival in Dublin.

All eyes turned to her when she burst open the door to the ER, though everyone soon returned to whatever they had been dealing with. One more stressed person was nothing the ER staff wasn’t used to, and the patients had more important things to worry about.

The receptionist almost looked bored as Minerva marched up to them.

“What room is Artemis Fowl in?” Minerva asked.

They clacked on the keys of their computer for a moment before responding. “Name?”

“Minerva Paradizo.”

The receptionist sighed. “Only family is allowed in right now.”

Minerva felt her frustration threaten to boil over, but she held her tongue. This wasn’t the receptionist’s fault and they didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of her anger at Artemis’ terrible communication skills. “I need to see him,” she said with the firmness of twelve years of public speaking lessons.

The receptionist was unmoved. “Family only unless you can get explicit consent.”

“He’ll let me in,” she insisted. _If he doesn’t, he’s in for worse than surgery._

“Are you his girlfriend?” they asked, and the uncaring presumption felt almost like a slap in the face--sharp, sudden, and bewildering.

Minerva did not like the way the question buried itself into her and sank to the pit of her stomach. She hesitated a moment before answering. “Yes. Now, will you tell me what room he is in? _S'il vous plaît_?” She just needed to find his room. Perhaps she would tell Artemis about this in fifteen years when she got over the awkwardness of lying to a stranger about being Artemis Fowl’s girlfriend. Perhaps.

The receptionist glanced at their screen again and told Minerva the room number. They returned to what they had been doing as she walked off as fast as she could without running, too preoccupied to let their thoughts linger.

She had managed to maintain her composure while speaking to the receptionist, but the moment she was through the double doors and on her way to Artemis’ room, she dropped her facade and stormed down the hall. Butler heard the heavy tapping of her shoes and watched with mild amusement as she approached. 

“You certainly got here quickly,” he said by way of hello.

“What else would you expect?” she replied. Butler was standing in front of the door, and she had to stand on her tip-toes to even attempt to look over his shoulder through the small window. “Is he out yet?” she asked, though the bodyguard’s presence made the answer obvious.

“Yes. It was a simple procedure.” His fingers curled into a tight fist then released, over and over. It was a motion that she had seen when Butler was cooling down after a threat had disappeared but the energy had not yet vanished. “Last I checked, he was awake, too, though he’s still under the effects of the anesthetic.”

“ _Magnifique_. I can give him a piece of my mind.” She had been rehearsing her rant for the duration of the flight over, adjusting and refining to best express her anger and concern.

Butler nodded. “Good luck, Mademoiselle,” he said, stepping to the side and opening the door for her.

Minerva practically pounced into the hospital room, the beginnings of her tirade already on her tongue. Artemis beat her to the punch, however.

“ _Douée!_ ”

For the first time in a while, Minerva was speechless, thrown completely off guard. “ _Douée?_ ” she repeated after a moment. “‘Gifted’?” She carefully closed the door behind her, absently noting Butler’s attempt to hide a grin just as the latch clicked into place.

“ _Oui_ ,” he replied, having either failed to notice the anger flushing her cheeks or failed to care about it. He was smiling like an idiot, thanks in no small part to the anesthetic high he was still riding. “You,” he said, holding out his hand for her to hold, “are _Douée_.”

Minerva sat in the chair beside the bed and took his hand in hers. He didn’t pull away. It was unusual, but not uncomfortable. Mostly not uncomfortable.

Her irritation was quickly losing out to her amusement at Artemis’ current state. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“You know of Tír na nÓg, _oui?_ ”

_At least these mental gymnastics are good exercise_ , she thought to herself. “The Irish realm of eternal youth? I am familiar, though I have not studied the mythology extensively.”

“Pluripotency,” he said, though it took him a few tries to get all of the syllables in the right order. “Pluripotency refers to the ability of embryonic stem cells to…to differentiate into any of the three types of germ cells.”

Minerva managed to stifle a rather unprofessional and unsympathetic giggle. “Yes, Artemis. I am aware. You were telling me about Tír na nÓg, though, remember?”

“I know, _Douée._ It all connects. Have no fear.”

“Is that my name, now?” she asked. It was sweet in a way uncharacteristic of the usual Artemis Fowl, but his easy, upbeat mood from the nitrous oxide made it seem entirely natural. It certainly helped to melt away the rest of her anger, at least for the time being. It wouldn’t be fair to tear into him while he was like this. “In any case, please continue.”

“Your interruption is forgiven,” he said, and Minerva gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “NANOG is a transcriptional factor found on chromosome 12 that suppresses determination factors in ESCs. As such, it was named after Tír na nÓg, the land of eternal youth. These cells maintain their plur…pluripotency in the presence of these proteins. Did you know that pluripotency comes from Latin, meaning ‘many abilities’?”

“I’ve studied Latin for ten years now, Artemis.”

“Of course. Many abilities. One could say these cells are gifted.”

“That’s awfully poetic of you, Artemis.”

Artemis did an approximation of a shrug. “I am under the influence; allow me this.”

Minerva did laugh a bit at that. “Very well. We will see if I let you forget it, though. That will depend on the conclusion to your miniature thesis.”

“Of course, the conclusion.” He squeezed her hand as he continued. “Minerva Paradizo. Paradise.” He waved his free hand in a small circle to get the words unstuck from his addled brain.

“Paradise, like Tír na nÓg?” she supplied, for of course she’d pieced it together by now.

“Yes!” He reached over so that he could hold her hand with both of his. “You, _Douée_ , are my paradise.” He grinned sloppily before letting himself fall back into the pillows. “Not only are you a woman of many talents, your presence is a gift.”

Minerva felt her face grow warm, and she hid it by pulling her hand from his to cover her face as she snorted in a rather unladylike manner. “Artemis Fowl, I knew you were fond of poetry, but I never knew you to be so sentimental.” 

“I am a changed man since my untimely death.” He grinned, and Minerva found herself unbothered by his grim humor.

“And the pain medication has loosened your tongue,” she retorted.

Artemis let his eyes close. “Of course,” he agreed lazily.

Minerva shifted the chair a few inches closer and took Artemis’ hand again. “Please, rest,” she said quietly when he started to shift back into a sitting position. “Let the medicine do its work.”

“If you insist, _Douée_ ,” he muttered. He was unconscious moments later.

Minerva smiled fondly. There would be time to be angry at his thoughtlessness later. For now, she was content to hold his hand in hers as he recovered. She traced the shape of his bony knuckles, observing with strange fascination the way his skin shifted over the ridges as she delicately pulled it back and forth with the pad of her finger. He was healthier now than when they’d first reconnected almost half a year ago, but she could still see the faint outlines of his veins through his skin. 

Neither this body nor his previous one had ever seen much physical labor, and the softness of his hands was tangible proof of that. Artemis wasn’t usually fond of touch, so Minerva had never had much chance to study his hands. Now, however, she could feel where blisters had started to form from the grips of crutches. His delicate hands, renewed and reset from the cloning, were not used to any degree of hard work. Minerva wondered how long it would take calluses to form. She wondered if she would be able to observe their formation.

Most intriguing to her, though, was the fact that Artemis’ hands were warm. She had never really held his hand before his brief brush with death, but they had had numerous light touches. Their fingers brushing as they traded tools in the lab and accidentally touching their foreheads as they fixed each other’s hair before an event. Back then, Artemis had been cool to the touch like the vampire everyone secretly compared him to.

Death had changed him, made him more alive somehow. Minerva had certainly noticed in the past few months that he was more prone to letting his emotions be experienced by those around him, rather than bottling them away to ferment like Irish whiskey. If Minerva were more fond of poetry, she might consider saying that his return to life had unclogged his soul. It was the sort of spiritual metaphor that Artemis would appreciate, moreso now.

Instead, she focused on mentally documenting every minute detail of his hand that she could. If Artemis were awake and fully in control of his faculties, the prolonged touch would set him on edge. Chances to hold his hand were few and far between, and Minerva would indulge in the opportunity for as long as she could.

Even prior to Artemis’ temporary death, Minerva had wanted to hold his hand more. It was an action that felt natural to her. Bianca had been very receptive to this sort of affection, but her relationship with Artemis was...different. She cared for him, of course, but she could not define her feelings. If the way she had felt calling herself Artemis’ girlfriend was any indication, she was not interested in romance in his direction. 

“I assume you’ve heard of the various Greek love types?” she said aloud, vaguely towards Artemis. He remained asleep, but Minerva didn’t mind talking to herself. Speaking her thoughts helped to solidify them, put them in order, which had on more than one occasion led her to a deeper understanding of whatever complex topic she had been trying to grapple with. She usually did this with scientific matters, but feelings could be analyzed to a certain degree, right? 

“The Greeks have several words for love, representing different directions it can go. Perhaps we can use this concept to define...us?” As she spoke, she continued to stare at his hand sitting delicately in hers.

“I do not feel _eros_ toward you.” _Eros_ , sexual love. “And unless certain core aspects of yourself have changed, you do not feel _eros_ toward me. We have known this about each other since before your death.” She squeezed his hand slightly, thinking about the long night they spent researching queer theory after trying to find words to describe complicated experiences. They had both known ‘lesbian,’ of course, and ‘asexual’ had been easy to find. Digging into ‘asexual’ brought them to the split attraction model - the way to discuss the division between sexual and romantic attraction. It gave Minerva the term ‘panromantic’ to use with people she deigned to discuss these things with, and Artemis had decided ‘demi-romantic’ was a satisfactory enough label for the time being. 

_“A lack is difficult to define,” he had said, “but I am open to being proven wrong, should it come to that.”_

“But _eros_ is not the only form of love,” she continued eventually. “ _Philia_ , friendship. Deep friendship,” she clarified, though she knew Artemis wasn’t actually listening. “We could be _philia_ . There is nothing wrong with friendship.” She paused as if waiting for a response. “But I can’t help but feel as though you want something...else.” She hesitated to say ‘something more.’ Romance is not ‘more’ than platonic love, even if it didn’t seem like it sometimes. “I do not know what this ‘else’ might be. You are better at this than I am,” she admitted. “It is like music. I can appreciate the mechanics, respect the skill involved. Music is made of some beautiful math. But you are _part_ of the composition. You build with emotions, not just ratios and scales. Humanities and the arts have always been your specialty, _maestro_. Feelings are...too unscientific.”

There was a quiet knock on the door, and a moment later, a somewhat nervous nurse walked in with Butler looming over her shoulder.

“I’m, ah, here to check on Master Fowl,” the nurse said. “Routine. Making sure he’s recovering properly.” She glanced over her shoulder to confirm if Butler was still there. He most certainly was. Returning her attention to Minerva as best she could, she said, “Um, if you wouldn’t mind…” and tried to subtly wave her aside.

“Of course,” Minerva said, standing and neatly sidestepping out of the nurse’s way. No need to give the poor woman any more trouble. Protective Butler was already quite a bit to handle.

The nurse, whose name was Clara according to her tag, caught the way Minerva’s hand held onto Artemis’ for a fraction longer than necessary. Despite the bodyguard practically breathing down her neck, she smiled warmly. “Are you two a couple?” she asked.

Minerva hesitated a moment. “No. We are just friends,” she said.

“I would appreciate it if you would carry on with your check-up,” Butler said, “rather than gossip about your patient’s love life.”

The low growl in Butler’s voice successfully conveyed his intent to Clara. Namely, that if she did not carry on with her check-up, she might end up needing one of her own. The woman felt a shiver run down her spine, and she hurried to begin her examination so she could leave the massive bodyguard’s presence.

Once she had left, Butler’s shoulders fell, and the tension in his muscles drained with a long exhale.

“I know you are keeping him safe,” Minerva said lightly, “but that seemed a bit...excessive.”

Butler rolled his shoulders, releasing a few satisfying pops. “It has been a long day,” he admitted.

Minerva nodded in understanding. “What exactly happened?”

Butler managed a tired grin, a sign to her that the situation wasn’t too serious. “His crutch slipped on some wet leaves outside the Manor. He broke his leg in the fall.”

“This is his first autumn in this body, _non_? I am not surprised he is having trouble.” She reclaimed her seat beside the bed. “Even still, his lack of coordination is astounding.” She gave Butler a reassuring smile. “At least he is consistent.”

Butler managed to chuckle at that. Artemis began to stir, though it was unclear if it was a coincidence or a response to the sound. “I’ll give you your privacy back,” Butler said. “I’ll be just outside the door if you need anything. And I do mean anything.”

“ _Merci_.”

A few moments after the door clicked shut, Artemis opened his eyes. Once he caught sight of Minerva, he grinned, a lazy sort of expression that made it clear to her he was still dealing with the pain medication. Considering it had only been about half an hour since he was last awake, it was understandable. 

“ _Douée_ ,” he said, reminding Minerva that she had a nickname now, at least until the drugs wore off.

  
It was only fair that she returned the favor. “ _Maestro_ ,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who want to know more about romantic orientations and the split attraction model, [AVEN](https://www.asexuality.org/?q=romanticorientation) (the asexual visibility and education network) is a great place to start
> 
> Y'all're wonderful. Your comments fueled me to write half a chapter in a day. Here is my present (my douée *gasp*) to you all. I hope you enjoyed the Minerva-centric chapter. Winter is going to be a Long Boi so it might take a while. Hopefully having this one early will make up for it. (I say this like I have a schedule.) Comments speed up the process


	4. 3. zelfbewust, zelfbewuste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> zelfbewust, zelfbewuste. Dutch, adjective. 1. assertive. 2. self-conscious.
> 
> Or
> 
> Minerva sees an old friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by Asiatiques

The trip had been Minerva’s idea. After leaving the hospital, Artemis had to spend several weeks resting and recovering, breaking the already tenuous ‘exercise’ routine he had managed to cultivate and sending him spiraling into a semi-depressive funk that was exacerbated by the encroaching winter. Minerva had moved past the stage of sympathizing with him and had entered the stage of being annoyed by his self-pitying and refusal to help himself. His complaints and claims of not having the energy to do anything had started to grate on everyone’s nerves, so she organized a vacation to the mountains and dragged Artemis out of his room and onto the tarmac before he properly realized what was going on.

Once they landed in the Alps Maritime and he adjusted to the ubiquitous sight of snow and the pervasive taste of dandelion that it brought, Artemis was willing to admit that being forced out of the house was a good idea. His mood was already lighter than it had been in weeks just from the change of scenery.

His crutches crunched into the light snow cover as he, Minerva, and Butler made their way from the airstrip to the rental car that would take them to the lodge. His hands were already starting to go numb from the cold despite the thick gloves he was wearing, and twice, he nearly slipped on hidden patches of ice before they even made it to the car. Perhaps this trip wouldn’t be as enjoyable as he had tried to convince himself.

“Lighten up, _Maestro_ ,” Minerva said as she slid into the seat next to him. She reached for his hand, and with his nod, took it into hers to warm up. “We’ve only just arrived. If you do not let yourself have fun, you will be miserable the entire time.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “I will try. A ski lodge is not exactly my ideal vacation spot, though.”

“Maybe if you weren’t moping in your room all day, you would have been able to pick the destination.”

Artemis opened his mouth to object, but he found he didn’t really have a defense for himself. “Point taken.”

‘Lodge’ was a bit of a misnomer. The place they were staying was practically a resort. Though the interior and exterior walls were decorated to look like raw logs to create a cozy, winter aesthetic, the building was built with top of the line central air and amenities fit for a king. Or, in this case, fit for two rich geniuses and a bodyguard with an appreciation for the finer things. There was a massive fireplace in the lobby, though upon closer inspection, it became clear that the fire was an illusion and the heat came from subtle radiators built into the structure. The entire lobby was a perfect facade--a false rustic beauty for people who wanted a taste of nature without having to deal with the discomfort of real wilderness.

A bellhop moved past, pushing a cart loaded with familiar luggage. Artemis turned to Butler with a mildly accusatory glare. “Did you two work together on this?” he asked. “That is my suitcase.”

Butler merely shrugged. Before Artemis could question further, Minerva took his hand and pulled him away. “The planetarium has a show starting soon,” she said.

“What kind of ski lodge has a planetarium?” he asked, though he followed without protest.

They managed to slip into the dark room before the door was pulled closed. As they found a pair of empty seats, Minerva whispered, “The sky here is perfect for stargazing. The owners are very strict about exterior lights being kept at a minimum to prevent light pollution, and they have the planetarium shows during the day to get guests excited to go viewing at night. It’s better to take the lift to the top of the mountain instead, though. It is quieter, and the view is _parfaite_.”

The low courtesy lights shut off, signaling that the show was about to begin. A voice came over the speakers, explaining rules with practiced ease. It was all standard expectations--no smoking, no cell phones, the like--and Artemis tuned it out. In the tense, dark silence between the end of the speech and the beginning of the show, Artemis felt Minerva’s hand bump against his on the armrest between them. Though he knew she couldn’t see it, he smiled faintly and let his hand slip into hers. They stayed like that, fingers interlocked, for the entire thirty minute presentation.

  
  
  


By the time the show ended, it was close to noon, and both Minerva and Artemis were noticeably hungry. It seemed ridiculous to go out on the town so soon after arriving, so they set their sights on the elegant restaurant in the lodge. Neither of them were concerned about the exorbitant prices that hotel restaurants were known for, and there was the benefit of proximity to their room.

They got what they paid for, at least. The service was quick, and it wasn’t long before they had their food. Minerva had her salad, a bowl of mostly pronounceable vegetables and fruits tossed in a light vinegar dressing, and Artemis had salmon niçoise, a dish he had never tried but had ordered at Minerva’s insistence he try something new while they were here.

_“Tis the season for experimentation,”_ she had said, and Artemis laughed.

_“And this is such a daring experiment.”_

Their light banter was interrupted by Minerva suddenly squealing in joy and beckoning over a young woman from across the room.

“Mademoiselle Paradizo, as I live and breathe!” the woman said as she approached their table.

“It is wonderful to see you here! I didn’t realize you were still working in the area.”

“ _Doueé_ , who is this?” Artemis asked, his voice clipped.

The smile Minerva gave him, exuding happiness and excitement at this stranger’s arrival, made his heart clench. “Artemis Fowl, this is Bianca Serrentino-De Luca.”

Artemis had to look upward to meet her eye. Despite being inside, she was dressed for the mountain weather. She had a dark, almost rosy complexion, with strong cheekbones and kind eyes. Long, pitch-black hair extended out from under her thick green beanie in a loose French braid. He could tell that she was well built, even through her dense coat. Thick with muscle and fat in a way that would have made Butler proud.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Artemis,” she said, offering a handshake. Her words were tinged by a warm, cinnamon-scented Italian accent.

Artemis bit back a glare, the sort that would have reminded Holly of his old self. “I’m sure,” he said. He ignored her gloved hand. Minerva kicked him under the table but he did not react.

To Bianca’s credit, she managed to keep her stride in the face of Artemis’ negativity. Her abandoned handshake became a broad, fluid gesture. “Are you two dating?” she asked, as if it were a banal question.

“No, no, we’re just friends,” Minerva said, though Artemis heard the hesitance in her voice.

Bianca nodded. “Lovely to meet you, all the same. _Cara_ , how long are you here?”

“Just a few days,” Minerva answered. “Bit of a surprise trip. Do you still teach?”

Bianca grinned. “ _Sì_. But I have today and tomorrow off.”

“ _Merveilleuse!_ We _must_ have dinner. Tomorrow night? We can go somewhere in town, someplace lovely, with candles on the table.”

Bianca tried to wave her offer aside. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Minerva caught her hand. “Nonsense. You are never an imposition. My treat.”

“If you insist, _Cara_.” She was the picture of demure acceptance, polite in the face of a gift she does not want to deny but would be improper to accept outright. “I can never say no to you.”

Minerva’s sandalwood laugh filled the air around them. “It’s a date. How are the mountains today? You can teach Artemis to ski.” She turned to him, realizing he hadn’t been part of the conversation for the past several minutes.

Artemis had slowly shifted away from the scene, moving his body to the far edge of the seat without realizing. The familiar, flowing way Minerva and Bianca interacted caused a strange twist in his stomach. If Minerva thought highly of her, Artemis was willing to give her a chance, though that did not negate his discomfort.

Minerva met his eyes briefly, then turned back to Bianca. “Though in a little while. We are still settling in. I will text you?”

“Of course,” Bianca said. “I’ll leave you to it. Wonderful to see you, _Cara_.” She leaned in and kissed the air beside Minerva’s cheeks. Artemis saw her hand twitch to offer him a parting handshake, but she instead gave him a courteous nod before heading off in the direction she had come from.

Once she was gone, Minerva turned her attention fully to Artemis. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said. The lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

Minerva raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Artemis considered dragging it out. Minerva was clearly happy to see Bianca, and he didn’t want to taint their reunion with hangups he did not yet understand. However, hiding feelings like this seemed like an old-Artemis thing to do, and honesty was one area he thought he had improved in.

“‘Candles on the table,’ _Douée_? Really?” he eventually answered, attempting to balance openness with levity. He would talk to her properly after their trip. There was no reason to ruin the vacation for both of them.

Minerva blushed slightly. “I enjoy candles,” she said. “They create a lovely dinner atmosphere.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find a suitable place for us to take her. Someplace _romantic_ ,” he teased.

“It’s not like that,” she said, picking a raisin off her salad and flicking it at him. “We broke up ages ago.”

He allowed the raisin to hit him - not that he would have had much luck dodging. “You certainly don’t act like it.”

“We are _friendly_ , _Maestro,_ ” she insisted. “That does not mean we are dating. You of all people should know that.”

Artemis found that he did not like the feeling of not having an adequate response in conversations. It usually meant that he was in the wrong somehow, and the part of him that remembered being a snarky prick could barely tolerate the concept. He looked down at his plate and resumed eating without comment, willing to admit to himself, at least, that he felt like a petulant child. After a few moments of awkward silence, he changed the subject. “Did you volunteer me for ski lessons?”

  
  
  


If there was one thing Artemis Fowl II was known for, beyond his genius intellect and penchant for illicit activities, a single defining characteristic that represented the core of his being, it was that he was not athletic by any definition. Skiing, as an activity, requires physical coordination and control over one’s body in a way some might define as “athletic.” These two facts are not unrelated.

The first problem came when he had to don the skis themselves. Despite Artemis’ misgivings about the nature of her and Minerva’s relationship, Bianca was a patient teacher. She helped him click the heavy, plastic boots into the locks on the skis and tried to help him smoothly stand up. Unfortunately, even her expertise was not enough to combat his inherent lack of coordination, so he still nearly brought them both tumbling into the snow. Only nearly, however.

The next step was a simplified demo of basic movement. Stopping by pointing his toes inward rather than outward, how to slide one foot forward at a time, and a slightly more detailed tutorial on how to get up after falling. Artemis was very aware of the difference in her methods between these skills.

Minerva stood a few feet away, trying her best not to burst out laughing at the display. At this point, Artemis would have welcomed her mockery. The familiar sandalwood sound would have cut through the mental clogging caused by the highly reflective snow. His vision was starting to get overbright and the taste of dandelion was slowly becoming distracting.

Deeming him ready to hit the slopes, Bianca helped escort him to the lift. Minerva glided along beside them, chatting lightly with Bianca. She took the lift ahead of them, saying she would wait for them at the top. The tension in Artemis’ stomach did not leave so much as shift. Minerva and Bianca were apart, but now that she was gone and Butler had excused himself to take on the more advanced tracks, he was alone with Bianca.

If she noticed his hesitation, she did not show it. Instead, she gently guided him into the best position and helped him hop onto the lift seat as it approached.

Artemis could admit that the ride on the ski lift was nice, even though he was alone with Bianca while suspended fifteen feet in the air. It was quieter in the sky, and his vision was no longer primarily white.

It seemed expected of him to say something to Bianca while they had this moment, but the words sat on his tongue and refused to move.

_What are you to Minerva?_

_What is Minerva to you?_

_How do you let people touch you without wanting to remove your skin?_

He had a dozen questions in his head, and none of them felt right to ask. 

“This part is underrated,” Bianca said, abruptly pulling Artemis from his thoughts. “The ski lift,” she clarified.

“This is the only part I am good at,” Artemis admitted. She had an air about her that made it easy to be honest.

She chuckled softly. “I’m sure you’ll do fine on the way down.”

Artemis merely raised an eyebrow. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

She shrugged. “Intuition.” After a moment, she continued. “When I was little, I loved going up the ski lift. It was my favorite thing in the world. But going up the ski lift always entails going down it after. I became very good at going down as quickly as possible so that I could ride back up again.” She chuckled again, and Artemis barely managed not to smile at the anecdote.

“Why not just take the lift back down?” he asked.

“It is frowned upon,” she said. “And I did enjoy the skiing, too.” She put a hand on his shoulder and he flinched away at the touch, even through the bulky coat. She frowned but did not comment. “Find the part of the experience that you enjoy.” They were now approaching the end of the line. “When your skis touch the ground, push off the lift. I’m sure Minerva will help steady you.”

Getting off the lift went about as smoothly as anyone expected. The smoothness was comparable to a gravel road after a hurricane. Artemis managed to not fall flat on his face, at least, thanks in no small part to Minerva. True to her word, she had waited at the top, and she was ready to catch him as he tried his best to stay upright.

“Excellent work, _Maestro_ ,” she said. “You did not fall off the lift.”

Bianca glided up to them. “Leave him be, _Cara_. Everyone struggles their first time.”

“I seem to recall a particularly gifted student of yours being quite elegant on her skis at the beginning,” Minerva teased.

“She had an excellent teacher,” Bianca countered, “and a desire to show off for the lovely instructor she was clearly into.”

Artemis turned away and stared down the busy, well-worn slope, trying to tune them out. He put weight on his ski poles, digging the points into the snow. His body was starting to ache. Despite Bianca telling him riding the lift down was frowned upon, he considered doing it anyway if it meant he didn’t have to ski all the way down.

He must have been eyeing the descending benches because Minerva shuffled over to him. “You’ll be fine, _Maestro_ ,” she assured. “There’s nothing else to do but try.” Before he could object with the fact that there is plenty more theory he could study, she pushed off and sped away down to the bottom of the beginner course.

“She’s right, you know,” Bianca said from beside him. “If you keep thinking about it, you will psych yourself out. You geniuses are all like that.” She grinned. “Would you like me to push you?”

“No, I would not,” Artemis said icily. To emphasize his point, he dug his poles into the ground and launched himself forward with more grace than he had honestly expected. Almost immediately, he turned the front ends of his skis in slightly to slow what felt like a rocketing descent. The whole trip down was a careful balance of turning his skis parallel for a few seconds and then immediately turning them back in when the speed overwhelmed him. The trip, which was projected to take two minutes, took him ten and a half.

“Congratulations, _Maestro_!” Minerva called as he skidded towards her. “You made it to the bottom!”

His legs were shaking with exertion. What had seemed like relatively minor pain at the top of the slope had been exacerbated, and the thin poles were no substitute for his crutches.

Once he was closer to her, Minerva realized what was happening. “Bianca, help me get his skis off,” she ordered. She let him lean on her as Bianca dropped to the ground and unlocked his boots.

After standing like that for a few minutes, catching his breath, Artemis managed to stand up on his own. “I am going to our room,” he said, blinking away the dark spots just barely starting to form in his vision.

“Do you need help?” Minerva asked.

“No, no. I will be fine. The elevator is just inside.”

Minerva was unconvinced. “Are you sure?”

“Stay out here. Go down the harder slopes. No need for you to limit yourself on my behalf.” Before she could interrogate him further, he turned and, drawing on the last reserves of his strength, walked as confidently as he could back to the lodge.

Once inside the elevator, he clutched the handrail in a vice grip to keep from collapsing. He would go to their room, turn on the ensuite jacuzzi, and let his body recover. Watching Minerva slot back into whatever she and Bianca used to be hurt him in a way he did not like, and for once, he appreciated his weakened body for giving him a reason to get away and be alone with his thoughts.

He fumbled slightly with the room key but managed to get in after only a couple of attempts. It took him a few minutes to stagger to the master bathroom and set the large L-shaped tub to fill, and he managed to change into water-appropriate attire and even start some classical music playing from his phone before it overflowed.

He sighed as he sank into the hot water. It stung a bit for a few minutes, but it pushed away the last of the chill quite nicely. There were several jets that drove hot water directly onto his legs and lower back, practically a massage. He closed his eyes and let the quiet Chopin drift over him.

With his body finally settled, it was not long before the turmoil of his emotions came back to the surface. He was not so naive that he couldn’t recognize his jealousy by now, but that didn’t make him any less confused.

He did not hate Bianca. In fact, if circumstances had been different, he might have even appreciated her easy, almost magnetic charm. He understood why Minerva had been drawn to her.

‘Had been’ wasn’t the case, though, and that was the heart of the issue. Artemis had no memories of meeting Bianca before his death, but he was willing to bet that she and Minerva had behaved much the same way when they were dating as he had seen today. Bianca offered things in a partner that Artemis did not. She was suave and romantic seemingly effortlessly, for one thing. And the _touching_. Artemis was not blind; Minerva enjoyed affectionate contact, even platonically. Hand holding, physical proximity, gentle, thoughtless touches were all part of Minerva’s ‘vocabulary,’ and Artemis could not keep up. 

He opened his eyes so he could stare at his hands under the water. Minerva was always considerate of his boundaries, seeking permission and letting him initiate contact. He sifted through his memories from Before, studying how they had touched in the past. Spending time with Minerva brought back new memories for him frequently, but he wasn’t always aware of it. The images and accompanying senses slotted so neatly into his existing memories that it was as if they were never missing.

Even in his oldest memories, Minerva had been forced to hold herself back for his comfort. He _wanted_ to make her happy, but he was not willing to put himself to that level of discomfort. Bianca could, though. She welcomed the easy touches. She sought them out. She complemented Minerva beautifully, and Minerva deserved someone like that. Artemis knew this. Minerva’s happiness made him happy, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that. Furthermore, he had no romantic interest in her.

So why did it hurt to see Minerva and Bianca acting like a couple?

Artemis groaned and let himself sink further into the hot water. Did the old version of himself have to deal with this pettiness?

At least half an hour had passed and Chopin’s Piano Sonata No. 3 had just concluded when he heard the door to the suite open with a loud click. He could hear Minerva shedding layers in the main area before she followed the quiet sounds of Chopin over his phone speakers mixing with the water jets.

“Do you mind if I join you, _Maestro_?” she asked quietly.

Artemis shrugged, his shoulders immediately chilling as they rose above the water level for a moment.

Minerva disappeared from the doorway for a few minutes. When she returned, he saw that she had changed into an elegant black swimsuit. It was a single piece with shimmering orange streaks radiating from a point near her hip. It looked very nice on her, but he didn’t comment. She stepped into the other leg of the L-shaped tub and stretched her legs out, her feet nearly touching his at the bend in the middle.

Her shoulders relaxed as the heat seeped into her skin. “This was a good idea. Nothing like a good soak after being out in the cold,” she said. After that comment, though, she remained silent, letting the warmth reach her bones to the tune of Fantaisie-Impromptu.

The jets caused the water to move between them continuously, connecting them more than open air. It was closeness without contact, and Artemis allowed his earlier misgivings to cycle out with the water. This was closeness he could manage.

Minerva was the one to crack the tenuous quiet. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“For what?” It was the first thing he had said aloud since leaving her and Bianca on the slopes that afternoon.

“Skiing. Bianca. This whole trip. It was...a miscalculation.” She paused, but Artemis didn’t interrupt. “I missed you. The old you.” 

For a single moment, Artemis felt his heart drop. Minerva had been the only one who had known him before who didn’t seem to expect him to be a version of himself he could barely remember.

“I know that’s not fair of me. But I cannot help it sometimes. This place, this...this whole trip is something you would not have done before, and I took advantage. There is so much wrong. I thought bringing you along would help to remove your present from your past in my mind, I suppose. I thought perhaps you now, more open and emotive, would be able to enjoy this. But I did not consider _you_ , only your past relative to now.” Her feet drifted closer to his, perhaps pushed by the current, perhaps intentionally. As they made contact with his, he drew his legs in a bit, and she sighed. “So I am sorry.”

Artemis was quiet for a moment. “I have not been cooperative,” he said. The lack of eye contact created by the L made confessions easier, and he decided to ask while they were both feeling vulnerable. “Are you in love with Bianca?”

“No,” she said emphatically. “I care about her, but our romance is over. We did not give each other what we wanted, so we ended things before our feelings soured.”

Artemis let the statement settle in him before he continued. “Are you in love with me?” It was a question he hadn’t thought to ask, and he did not know which answer he would prefer.

“I do not know,” Minerva said after a few moments. “I think perhaps, but I do not expect the same in return. My feelings are for me to determine. You are not obligated to reciprocate.”

Artemis took the words and buried himself in them. He was excellent at reading people, but Minerva seemed to defy that. Hearing from her in such explicit terms that she was not expecting from him something he could not give made his chest uncoil. “Thank you,” he said, and hoped she understood the weight of his gratitude.

They stayed like that, silently appreciating each other’s company, for some time. By the time Butler returned from his time on the double black diamond slopes, their fingers had started to prune, and they took the interruption as a sign to get out and drain the water.

Artemis sat on the edge of the tub, physically and emotionally exhausted, as Minerva toweled off. She sat down beside him, and he could feel the lingering heat from the water drifting off her.

“Would you like me to cancel dinner with Bianca?” she said quietly. There was no judgment in her tone.

Artemis answered immediately. “No. You do not have to accommodate me in all situations. You exist outside of me. I wouldn’t dare stop you from spending time with an old friend.”

Minerva smiled at him. “I want to exist beside you, at least. We can work to match each other’s pace.” She hesitated a moment, then placed her hand on the porcelain ledge between them.

Artemis glanced down, then carefully placed his hand over hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a million years. I don't process the passage of time properly so I didn't even realize how long it had been. This chapter is the longest chapter by far, mostly because I wanted to tell a whole story in it, not just a flash in time. I hope you like Bianca. I came up with her myself because I wanted to give Minerva a buff girlfriend.
> 
> Happy Fowl Fest, folks! Check out the Artemis Fowl: Incident Report podcast. We're on [ Tumblr](https://artemis-fowl-incident-report.tumblr.com/) and stuff! I'm part of the Writers Room and we would love the support!
> 
> Fun fact, that bit about the ski lifts is based on the one time I went skiing. I really enjoyed taking the lift but I had to ski back down in order to go up it again. Unlike Bianca, however, I do not become a pro level skier.
> 
> I have officially run out of content that I had already written prior to publishing, so the next chapter might not come for a bit. Or maybe I'll enter a writing frenzy and just do it all at once. Who knows?
> 
> Meet me on [Tumblr](pokegeek151.tumblr.com) if you care about that sort of thing


	5. 4. hljóð, hljóðs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hljóð, hljóðs. Icelandic, noun. 1. a cry. 2. silence.
> 
> Or
> 
> Artemis and Minerva go on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by Asiatiques

It was somewhat of an unspoken rule between Artemis and Minerva that their outings be near Minerva’s home rather than Artemis’. Though his renewed life was no longer a secret to the public, it wasn’t exactly well known, and traipsing across Dublin was liable to get them noticed by at least one confused local, leading to an interrogation neither of them were ever in the mood to deal with.

Artemis was willing to take the chance today, however. He had been planning on spending the afternoon with Minerva for quite some time now, but he had woken up and had been barely able to lift himself out of bed. He hated going outside the manor on wheelchair days, but he couldn’t hide from the world forever, and he knew that he needed to address his own internalized ableism. There was nothing wrong with needing to use a wheelchair, and, to borrow a phrase from Holly, he needed to get over himself.

He had sent Minerva a text asking for a slight change of plan, and a few hours later, he rolled out onto the tarmac at Fowl Manor to greet her as she arrived. Shortly after his resurrection, the Fowls had purchased a vehicle much larger than the Bently that could easily accommodate Artemis’ wheelchair. It wasn’t as elegant, but he could easily be helped in and out even by someone as tall and broad-shouldered as Butler, so this was the car of the day.

Artemis had taken to seeking out independent coffee shops and cafés, little hidden gems with staff who knew how to keep their mouths shut about the Fowl heir’s presence. The place he took Minerva to today was a new one called Bad Moon. The liquid chalk sign out front promised exquisite pastries to go with the high-class coffee, but more importantly, the website advertised complete wheelchair access. 

The early spring air was clear and crisp, so they mutually agreed to sit on the dainty porch. The honey-sweet sunlight and the tart bite of the macoun sky could complement the coffee quite nicely, if Artemis’ sensory memory was accurate. They had intentionally gone during off-hours, so the rest of the cafe was completely empty aside from the staff. By the time their orders had been taken and they were finally left alone, Artemis had begun to feel overwhelmed by the attention the bored waitstaff had given him. It took all of his willpower not to snap at the poor waiter who put his hands on Artemis’ wheelchair, a bit overeager in trying to be helpful. The combined glares of the two young geniuses managed to scare him off, though.

“If they are going to present themselves as accessible,” Artemis complained, “then they need to train their employees how to interact with people in wheelchairs. Not touching the chair is the simplest rule to follow. It literally involves doing nothing.”

“It is a Sisyphean task to teach the world how to treat you like you’re human,” Minerva said.

“Much like Sisyphus, I must keep pushing.” He settled himself into the patio chair. “At least I am not alone in this.”

Minerva smiled, and the ordeal from a few minutes ago was almost worth the sight.

For once, neither of them were ready to start a meaningful conversation. It had only been a couple of months since the ski trip, and they had only managed to see each other a handful of times since due to conflicting schedules. They texted, certainly, and they video chatted nearly every week, but existing in the same space felt different somehow. The trip had been enlightening, though Artemis still wasn’t sure how to handle his newly identified emotions.

He did know, at least, that he owed it to Minerva to rise to her level of partway, rather than just forcing her to wait for him to be comfortable. He reached his hand across the small table and let it sit there, and Minerva looked at it like it was an alien artifact before carefully putting her hand on top of his. His fingers curled up instinctively, the earlier tension and his overall fatigue level making the touch almost painful, but when she started to pull away, he forced his hand to relax.

She gave him a look of confusion, but she kept her hand there. After a minute of sitting in awkward silence with their hands touching (Artemis was astounded that people actually managed to enjoy this), Minerva began to gently run her fingers over his knuckles. He pulled away sharply, then took a deep breath and placed his hand back down.

“Artemis, you don’t have to--”

“It’s fine.”

Before Minerva could further interrogate him, the waiter returned with their drinks. Artemis was grateful to have an excuse to use both his hands, and he silently berated himself for that gratitude. This wasn’t about him. It was a notion the old him would balk at, and though he relished the idea of being a better, more well-adjusted person, the prospect of touching was still a deeply unpleasant one, even if it was on Minerva’s behalf.

They both sipped on their coffee for a few minutes. The air between them was tense and awkward, and Artemis knew it was his fault. 

“This is actually quite good,” he said, mostly to break the silence. “You would like it.”

“I’ll order some, then,” she said, sounding almost as relieved as he felt, the call for the waiter already on her tongue.

“No need,” Artemis said, carefully pushing his cup towards her.

She stared at him like he’d grown a second head in his revival and not just an extra toe. “You just drank from that cup,” she said incredulously.

“Yes.”

“And you are willing to let me drink from it,” she continued, almost a question.

Artemis hesitated for just a beat. “Yes.”

Minerva put down her own cup as forcefully as she could manage without spilling. “ _ Maestro _ , what are you trying to do here?”

“Nothing,” he said, doing his best to convey nonchalance. “I am simply sharing my coffee with someone I care about.”

“You are acting like we’re a couple,” she said, almost angry.

“We’re just friends,” he said instinctively. Why was she upset? He was trying to meet her needs. "Was this not supposed to be a date?"

“This was evidently a mistake. We are both clearly having a terrible time.” He opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off. “Did you learn nothing this past winter? You don’t need to do... _ this _ in order to make me care about you.”

“I’m not trying to make you care about me. I already know how much you care.”

“Then why this forced romantic outing? I don’t want you pushing yourself somewhere that will harm you. I told you I would wait for you.”

“You shouldn’t have to wait for me!” Artemis said, finally getting Minerva to pause. “I do not want you to wait for me when I’m right here. I want to meet you where you are, or at least get part way there. I know how much you crave physical connection.”

“You are not the only person in my life, Artemis. You don’t have to fill every niche. I can wait for you to be ready.” She put her hand out on the table, but smiled knowingly and pulled back when Artemis reached out. “And it’s okay if you are never ready. I care about you too much to hurt you over something with such an easy answer.”

“ _ Douée _ ,” he said, trying to convey all of his emotional turmoil - his stressing, his desire to make her happy, his frustration at his own perceived inadequacy - in that single word.

“ _ Maestro _ ,” she replied, and the scent of lavender shampoo washed over him in a way that felt new and exciting yet intimately familiar all at once.

After a moment, Minerva picked up her cup. “Finish your coffee before it gets cold,” she commanded. “And remind me what it is so that I can order some for myself. Assuming you were telling the truth about you believing I would like it?” Her switch from harsh vulnerability to casual amicability was astounding.

Artemis smiled faintly, still reeling. “Of course. I would never lie about coffee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah she's short, but at least she exists. Thank you for your patience! School has been A Thing, but I finally forced myself to actually write the thing. I'll be honest, I'm not a huge fan of this chapter. It's the least pre-planned of the whole work in terms of theme and plot. I am excited for the +1 though. Hopefully it won't be two months before it comes out. We're almost done, lads!
> 
> ~~I totally didn't forget to account for Butler this chapter, yep, for sure. It's all good, no need to worry about it.~~


	6. +1. 好不 [hǎo bù]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 好不 [hǎo bù]. Mandarin Chinese, adj. 1. very. 2. not at all. 
> 
> Or
> 
> Artemis asks the question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by Asiatiques (I love you, thank you so much for sticking this out!)

It had been almost a year since Minerva found out that Artemis had been revived, and to celebrate, Minerva was finally taking him stargazing. She had promised the outing while they were at the ski lodge, but it hadn’t panned out. Now, they could comfortably lounge on the ground blanket spread out on the wide open hillside of the Fowl Manor estate without having to worry about obnoxious tourists or charismatic exes.

The blanket below them was not fine silk, and the tiny fibers poked up through Artemis’ soft shirt. He could feel some of his hairs sticking to the back of his neck from the humidity, as well. Nonetheless, he was quite comfortable. Minerva was laying beside him with about a foot of distance between them; close without being in each other’s space. His crutches were laid out in the grass behind them, but he wasn’t actively in pain.

The sky was fairly clear, and there were quite a few stars visible. For the past few years, the Fowls had been more proactive about reducing their light pollution, and the manor was isolated enough that the nearby lights of Dublin didn’t interfere with the view. It wasn’t perfect, but they didn’t have to travel far. And of course, it wasn’t about the view of the stars so much as it was about who they were doing the viewing with.

For a while, they chatted idly about light topics like international art forgery schemes and using heart disease medication in phobia treatments. Laying on his back made Artemis feel as though he were talking aloud to himself and the air responded with lavender shampoo, and eventually, he found himself opening up more than he’d expected when planning for this outing.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said.

“What else is new?”

He laughed as he spoke. “I’m serious.”

“Fine, fine, what have you been thinking about?”

“Love.”

Minerva rolled her eyes overdramatically. “I had forgotten for a moment that I had befriended a sentimental poet.”

He pressed on, ignoring her mocking. “For the past year, and if my memories are accurate, prior to that as well, people have been consistently mistaking us for a couple. That made me start to think about what our relationship actually  _ is _ . Obviously, we are not romantic. That is abundantly clear. But I hate the concept of ‘just friends.’” He paused for only a moment before continuing. Vulnerability is so much easier when one has an excuse not to look at the person they are baring their soul to. “Being around you makes me feel like myself. Like a person. I am constantly compared to the version of me from before I died. I am still Artemis Fowl, but I am...different now. You allow me to exist as whoever I am now, rather than waiting for me to be who I was. That is more than ‘just friends’ to me.” He paused for a moment, and Minerva quietly waited for him to continue. “You’ve studied Latin, correct?”

Minerva smiled to herself. “This feels awfully familiar,” she said. “Yes, for over ten years now.”

“Then you certainly know the word  _ altus, alti _ .”

“‘Tall?’” she asked.

“It does mean tall, or lofty, but it also means deep or low. The Romans did not differentiate between the direction of height, only the size of it. Mountains and valleys and whirlpools and skyscrapers are all grand and magnificent in different directions. I think love is like that. Romantic feelings, platonic adoration, familial connection; all forms of love are equally grand and important in different directions.”

“From the brain of a poet,” she said.

“We are more than ‘just friends,’” he said, “but romance is not the next step after friends.”

“So we are mountains being confused for valleys?”

“And you claim to not be a poet,” he said. “Yes. That is exactly the metaphor I was building. I have been doing some...specialized research. How much queer theory have you studied?”

“A bit. We spent some time looking up labels at one point before you had died, but I haven’t done much else beyond that. Why?”

“I think I found a concept that resonates with me, and I would like to make you an offer.” He hesitated for a moment, mentally preparing himself. He had rehearsed this moment in his head dozens of times, but as with all plans, preparing to execute is much different than any hypothetical he could come up with. Finally, he managed to unstick the words from his throat. “Would you like to be my queer platonic partner?”

“What does that mean?” she asked genuinely.

Artemis let out a quiet breath. He hadn’t expected outright rejection, but emotions are never bound by logic. “It’s similar to a romantic couple in terms of commitment, but it is platonic. A deep, meaningful relationship that is platonic and nebulously queer while being specifically non-romantic sounds exactly like what we have.”

“It’s just nice to have a label?” she offered, and he smiled in response. They had talked extensively about the value of labels. About how having a label to define a nebulous experience connects you to a community of people. About how defining something makes it easier to understand, even if the label isn’t perfect. “I would love to be your queer platonic partner,” she said.

For the first time this conversation, he actually turned to look at her, and she was already looking back at him. For a moment, he was awash in peaches and cloves from her smile that was bright enough to drown out the stars.

He groped around in the space between them until he found Minerva’s hand. He laced his fingers into hers for a moment, then pulled his hand away, finally letting it rest with his knuckles just barely touching hers. Just a step over the boundary, but a step taken nonetheless.

After a few moments, Minerva spoke into the night sky, “ _ Que tu sois en train de vivre _ .”  _ I am grateful you are living. _ A mirror of what she had said that first afternoon when she flew directly to him to see him alive.

Artemis smiled. “ _ Je suis joyeux que je sois en train de vivre, _ ” he replied.  _ I am grateful to be living _ . 

It was an accurate sentiment. A year ago, he had to be reminded why he was alive at all. Now, however, he wasn’t just alive. Moment by moment, his memories were returning, filling in more gaps every day to the point where remembering was more common than not; he was settled into his body, comfortable with the knowledge that it was his own, even when it pained him; the people he surrounded himself with cared enough about him to be patient and accepting of his eccentricities and unique needs. And, of course, he had Minerva by his side. Artemis Fowl was more than just alive; he was living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I usually write one-shots, so this is the longest fic I've finished. Thank you all for reading and commenting and sticking with me! Your lovely words are what kept me going. This has been in progress for longer than you may realize, and it feels so good to be able to mark it complete. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I do!
> 
> Big thanks to my beta. This would not have happened without you encouraging me. I love you, my dude. Thank you for everything!
> 
> As always, comments sustain my physical form, so if you want more Artemis Fowl fics in the future, comments are the way to get them.

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me actually posting a thing, how wild is that?
> 
> My physical form is maintained by comments, and I can't write if I don't exist
> 
> Meet me on [Tumblr](https://pokegeek151.tumblr.com/) if you care about that sort of thing


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